


if you're too shy (let me know)

by oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY



Category: Booksmart (2019)
Genre: Amy comes out, Canon Gay Relationship, F/F, catfishing as ryan, hope uses Instagram, questionable homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:40:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26249581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY/pseuds/oH_cRaMiTY_iTs_aMiTY
Summary: Hope swears that her eyes are playing tricks on her, she's been staring at this post for almost half an hour now and yet, she's still not sure how she's managed to find herself on Amy's Instagram account again.Okay, well.She does, it involves a second account to her main that's completely blank utilizing it to catch up on anything she posts.It's not meant to be creepy, Amy's blocked her actual one at this point so it's not like she would actually be stalking. Is it stalking?Hope takes a deep breath and opens a direct message chat with Amy's account, typing out the words without thinking,'i saw your post,' she tries.'i'm gay too,' - No, that's too weird. She deletes the characters and let's her fingers hover over her keyboard, mentally stalling. It takes a minute to think about it, but her thumbs type swiftly.'it takes a certain amount of bravery to come out and express who you truly are as a person, as someone who attends Crocket, I know for a fact it isn't easy. I'm afraid I'm in the same situation as you, and I wouldn't be 100% honest if I said I wasn't scared to come out too.'
Relationships: Amy/Hope (Booksmart)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 37





	1. you ask for the end, but i've still never started

**Author's Note:**

> _made a custom Amy & Hope playlist on Spotify if anyone is interested in that, send me links through insta of yours if you want to, cause i'm interested. Or songs I should add._
> 
> _[ my own custom amy & hope spotify playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1BWwmOgfBNDehLrEFrKqwn?si=Coq6znTFTiCxwo_sR4duDQ)_
> 
> _[ listen to this booksmart podcast if your feeling depressed and need to calm down... idk... i feel better mentally listening to kaitlyn and beanie's voices... it's complicated. ](https://open.spotify.com/episode/4qpItlbGnE1s7sWoTqGUy2?si=R5kmcPHDQYmQb2f6gsyBkw)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so you clicked on this? thanks, so... this is kind of my life rn._
> 
> _i've recently started following this confession and tea instagram page that my school is putting on... so i'm gonna write something about it... haha... not actually what's going on with it, but hope runs an anonymous confession page on instagram and amy ends up coming out throughout the story._

**_h._ **

Hope finds her gaze peering out of the window beside her seat, her notebook is open in front of her as she sits in the middle of her Physics lecture. She wonders why she didn't just skip fifth, it'd seem completely reasonable to avoid this class with a ten foot pole. 

Frankly, Hope doesn't even understand why she even signed up for Physics. AP Chemistry seemed like more of her style anyway.

Or in other sane words, that's the class that Annabelle signed up for with her for their first semester. Originally they planned to take this together, but seeing as Annabelle's commitment and indecisive nature still existed, that surely wasn't the case.

Physics labs were alright though, for the most part she wound up getting stuck with Amy Antsler. A complete teacher's pet, one of which would fully complete the assignment without question and just tell Hope to write her name as she slacked off either on her phone or just skipping class. They sat next to each other, only because Amy couldn’t find anywhere else to sit, and Mr. Kelvin – the Physics teacher, or as Hope liked to call him, the fucking epidemy of nerds, – wouldn’t let Hope just sit alone.

However, Physics was Physics after all.

Hope wouldn't be caught dead going after anything more than the necessary information if she was being completely honest about the situation, it was mainly for her second science credit anyway,

Though, most of the times she chose to come to class, she was where she was now; so utterly confused on what the teacher was trying to inform the class on that it just seemed more reasonable to not even show up in the first place.

To combat this when it occurred; mainly for her sanity, Hope found herself drifting off into space, there really wasn't anything else interesting to see anyway.

She's startled back by Mr. Kelvin though, he's dressed in his khakis and a light blue buttoned down shirt with a navy blue tie, his sleeves being rolled up past his elbows as he stands there with a black capped dry erase marker in his right hand. Hope easily thinks she's in trouble, and for the most part doesn't really care.

But she isn't, he hunches over her lab table, to the point where they're practically eye level and Hope can distinctly smell the egg salad he must've had during lunch. It takes a lot of strength not to say anything about it, hell, Hope's almost certain that she was about ten seconds away from either throwing up or telling him to go drink some bleach. Maybe even being a combination of the two. Just to do anything to get away from that. 

"The attendance office just called, your father is waiting outside," he says, "I was told to just dismiss you to go head down there."

"Did they say what it was for?"

Mr. Kelvin shakes his head, "I'll go ahead and write you a pink slip, go ahead and pack up."

"Alright," Hope nods slowly, slowly getting up from her stool to grab her messenger bag from its place on the linoleum tile and flipping the flap open to quickly shove her notebook into it.

"Hope?"

Hope's eyes look up to find Amy Antsler's staring tentatively at her, she clears her throat and raises a brow that could only be assumed as being of annoyance, trying to get out of the room as quickly as possible, “What?"

"Sorry," Amy murmurs out, "I was just going ask if you wanted me to finish writing these notes then send you electronic copies through our emails so you can copy them for Friday's quiz."

"Yeah sure, whatever," Hope replies briskly, "You know my student email address still?"

"I believe so," Amy nods, "You shared that PowerPoint with me last month so I'm pretty sure I've still got it somewhere."

"Sounds good," Hope shrugs, pulling the strap over her head and quickly buckling the bag closed, "Later."

Hope moves through the center aisle between the tables near the front of the room to grab the pink slip from Mr. Kelvin’s fingers as he meets her halfway to the classroom door, everyone else continuing to work without hesitation, it’s not even a minute later that Hope’s hastily climbing down the stairwell, passing two kids making out underneath it and completely ignoring everything else but trying to get down to the attendance office.

Her phone vibrates in her pocket, and she pulls it out of her jacket, unlocking it to see two notifications, one of which was a text from her father, another was an email. Nothing out of the ordinary, she relocks her phone however and continues to rush outside to meet her father, signing herself out of class and pushing open the main entrance of the school’s door. Finding herself briskly walking down the concrete steps and shifting the strap more comfortably around her neck again.

“What’s going on?” Hope asks, pulling the passenger door shut behind herself, and moving her bag to rest in her lap whilst craning around to reach for her seatbelt. The engine rumbling to life as her father easily uses the gear shift to help himself pull away from the curb.

“Doctors appointment,” he states, “Monthly medication checkup.”

“Oh,” Hope murmurs, “For what?”

“Your mental health?” He surmises, “I thought I told you I was picking you up after 1.”

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” Hope hums out, pausing for a minute she frowns, “You’re not going to have me tested for drug again this time, are you?”

“Hope,” he sighs, “Again, your mother was the one who wanted them to do the blood tests.”

“I don’t even understand what gave you the right to—"

“We were just making sure you weren’t on anything.”

“Yeah so,” Hope frowns, “I guess being bipolar is something that just requires drug tests, isn’t it?”

“We were just looking out for you,” he continues, “You were out of control and failing half of your classes.”

“Whatever,” Hope replies firmly.

“Don’t say _whatever_.”

“Yeah, _okay_ ,” she bites sarcastically.

“I mean it young lady,” Hope’s father sighs out before stating firmly, glancing over to Hope and pinching his thumb and first finger together, “You’re _this_ close to getting your phone taken away.”

“I’m _so_ scared,” Hope mocks with a sarcastic laugh, “It doesn’t change the fact that mom’s a lunatic and you think I’m some kind of drug addict.”

“I never said you were a drug addict,” he dismisses, “They came back negative for crying out loud.”

“Which means that I’m _not_ crazy.”

“But you _still_ need medication.”

Hope groans, “But Dad, you _know_ I fucking hate it, it doesn’t do shit for me, I still feel exactly the same.”

“Language.”

“I’m serious dad,” Hope states, “I don’t feel different.”

“Look,” He sighs, “Tell the _doctor_ , not me.”

* * *

“Remember to take you medication while I’m gone.”

Hope looks up from her task of trading out CDs from her open binder that laid unzipped on top of her bed, the disk changer on a standby mode as she stands there fixated on trying to rearrange each of them neater. The reasoning being some kind of energy randomly springing onto her as she was listening to a heavily scratched up copy of _Rumors_ by Fleetwood Mac, feeling oppressed to not do anything but take advantage of it.

“Yeah, okay,” she murmurs lightly, “You leaving?”

He nods slowly, “Headed to work now, there’s money for you to order pizza on the table.”

“Okay,” Hope acknowledges, “Love you Dad.”

“Come on,” he purses his lips, “Come give me a hug.”

Hope shakes her head, “No, Dad, I’m too old for that.”

“For hugs?” He raises his brows, Hope nods, “Now that’s not right, I’m thirty-nine and I still like hugs.”

“ _Dad_ ,” Hope whines out stiffly, “Come on, don’t make me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He rolls his eyes, “It’s a teenager thing, I got it.”

“Thank you,” Hope heaves out, “I love you.”

“Love you too Hope, call your mom.”

“But—”

“She wants to hear about your appointment,” He interrupts, “I already told her you would.”

“Ugh,” Hope groans, “Why?”

“I know you hate talking to her, but she’s your mother.”

“That doesn’t mean much,” Hope complains, “You give birth to someone, big deal.”

“You know,” He frowns, “It _is_ a big deal, you’ll understand it when you have kids someday.”

 _‘Not this again,’_ She mentally groans _._

“I already told you,” Hope states, “I don’t want kids.”

“You might change your mind later,” He shrugs.

“I don’t think it works like that.”

He clears his throat, checking his phone from his unzipped tattered winter jacket, “Anyway, I’m going to be late if I don’t get going. Be in bed by eleven.”

“Right,” Hope hums, “Bye.”

“Bye.”

* * *

Hope unhooks her phone from her charger, opening up her email, she pulls up the email she didn’t get to read earlier, tapping on it to look over the information. It regarded a Google Forms response, opening it to read what it read and finding something that makes her eyes squint. Easily copying the text to her clipboard, she opens up Instagram.

Little did everyone know, she was the one who ran the infamous anonymous confession page for Crocket High, including Annabelle, she never told anyone.

Well, there was a senior she knew three years ago that had gifted the account to her prior to their graduation, and it was mainly to keep it alive and available to the student body. Some found it toxic, and most students didn’t really follow it much. It was mainly an outlet for gossip, Hope knew people well enough to know they surely loved to do that exact thing.

But instead of being an asshole, she respected everyone by letting them have the ability to remain anonymous, finding a way to keep them comfortable to say what they need to without judgment, and Hope would let them most of the time.

Only really excluding political views and things that could be found sexist or highly offensive to certain communities. She had respect, sort of.

If she had respect, she’d delete the page, but she really just thinks it’s a great way to do some kind of community service.

She pastes the text onto a black background, changing it to white and bolding it, she adds a short caption and posts it.

**_“I heard George crying in the bathroom during second period, when I asked if he had a vagina… since he was obviously crying for no apparent reason again, he told me to go to fucking hell… Before I said anything though I fucking swear to god, I heard him say Alan’s name.”_ **

She chooses to log out of that account seconds later and log into her actual one, finding nothing but a direct message from Annabelle about some post by some male celebrity. It’s a quick reply of a something bland and nonchalant that makes her revel to the tone of her email notification banner dropping down to alert her.

Amy’s notes are attached as JPEG files in her student email, and Hope finds herself writing a to-do list on her arm for her release period tomorrow, before going back to scrolling through anything and everything else she could to Jeremy Zucker’s _‘not ur friend.’  
_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _"weak when ur around" by blackbear has been one of my summer anthems, i've got classes on the 8th so i'm going to go out on a limb and die on ao3 for a little while... been playing drums mostly so that's where i've been, marching band has been kicking ass... anyway... not that i won't write, it just won't be as frequent... don't let this fandom die... ahhh..._
> 
> _it's senior season bitches... yes... finally gonna graduate... which i know... surprises me too... maybe... just maybe... i'll find a way to get into the night before graduation party... if that's a thing... god knows if this pandemic will end before then... i mean... still need to fucking find a diana silvers in a bathroom casually smoking a joint...._
> 
> _why do i have high expectations for women...? gonna wind up being alone all my goddamn life... aye._
> 
> _shout out to jeremy zucker for being like... 10/10 on having songs that reflect my current mood on friendships.... 'not ur friend' has been on repeat too... ahhh... fuck me (jkjkjkjk... the song's rlly good though)_
> 
> _I'll be waiting for that lauv and jeremy collab..._  
>    
>  _...sorry that this is so short, i'll probably go back in later and edit the shit out of it... these are gonna be short at first... and yes... i may or may not have some experience on knowing people who are bipolar... i've got a bunch of mental issues it's not even funny..._
> 
> _i've also been having personal issues so... there's that, and yeah... shit is crazy right now. our family dogo is a sick boi... and like... fuck... it's legitimately not a time for bullshit for me... i don't want any bullshit about hate or anything, i just need like... some support... love you guys... stay well._


	2. i could take drugs to feel again, but i rather feel nothing for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't check this too much, but putting this out even though it's really short lol... sorry for errors.

* * *

**_h._ **

****

“Did you see the post that that anonymous page posted yesterday?”

Hope purses her lips as she looks over to find Annabelle’s frame taking a seat next to hers at their usual yellow picnic table, shaking her head quickly before looking back down to her poor excuse for a lunch. A granola bar and a can of Monster. Focusing on her phone more so as she takes a drink from the open can.

“No,” She murmurs out, “What page?”

“The confession page I told you about before,” Annabelle narrows her eyes, and when Hope doesn’t make any attempt to acknowledges the statement, she frowns, “You know,” She tries, “The one that said that thing about me giving Dalton Smith head behind the mall?”

“Who?” Hope plays off, “I have no idea what we’re talking about here.”

Annabelle sighs and shakes her head, “Never mind, it’s not really important.”

“Alright,” Hope shrugs, “I mean, I wish I could tell you I knew anything.”

Annabelle gives a sarcastic hum, unwrapping a deli sandwich and taking a small bite from it, “It’s not a big deal I guess,” She mutters after she finishes chewing, “It’s just that some obviously fake post got posted last night.”

“What’d it say?”

“I guess it assumed that George was gay,” Annabelle surmises, craning her neck around to glance back at the theater kid’s table, George being close by, standing on the surrounding bench and with some packet of papers fisted tightly in his right hand.

“I don’t know, he doesn’t seem gay.”

“But there was the thing with Alan,” Annabelle quips, “Surely that wasn’t made up either.”

“Why does it matter if someone’s gay or not?” Hope questions, “Are you… what do they call it?”

“Homophobic?” Annabelle answers, and Hope nods, “No, I’m not.”

“So why do you care?”

She gives a shrug, “I don’t know, I just think it’d be kind of cool to know.”

“So you want to be intrusive into other people’s private lives instead of being outwardly homophobic to the idea of him and Alan together?” Hope frowns.

“I just told you,” Annabelle murmurs out, “I’m not homophobic about anything. But I mean, you know how I am with the gossip.”

“Yeah,” Hope scoffs sarcastically, “I really do.”

“So what’s going on with you?”

“Me?” Hope raises a brow, “What about me?”

“How’s your dad doing?”

“Oh,” Hope murmurs in a soft monotone, “He’s alright.”

“He still working at that one place?” Annabelle presses on, and Hope furrows her brows and exhales a sharp breath.

“ _Yeah_.”

“Don’t be sarcastic, jeez. I was just asking a simple _question_.”

“I wasn’t being sarcastic.” Hope replied flatly, “Your just bugging me.”

Silence falls around them, Annabelle continuing to chew silently on her lunch and Hope fiddling with her phone.

“Hey,” Annabelle speaks softly, tapping furiously on the side of Hope’s jacket with her hand and simultaneously causing the tall brunette to look up at her chaotic counterpart. “Nerd girl, two o’clock. Don’t be weird and look.”

Hope’s eyes widen, “What? She’s coming—” Annabelle just gives a reassuring smile before Hope immediately feels a tap on her opposite shoulder.

And just like that, Hope’s given almost whiplash, Amy’s face filling her vision. The auburn haired girl towers over her as Hope continued to stay seated at the picnic table. In a way, shocked and at a slight loss for words as a strange fluttering feeling emerges within her gut.

“H-Hey, Hope.”

Hope opened her mouth to speak, but closing it seconds later in exchange for a comforting smile and a nod.

“What’s goin’ on weirdo?” Annabelle teases lightly, catching Hope’s silence as a way to interrupt and attempt to diffuse the semi-awkward situation. She jabs Hope in her side with an elbow at the faulty exchange.

For some strange reason, Hope watches as Amy’s face heats up slightly pink, the freckles on the bridge of her nose catching Hope’s eye as her hazel irises dart between Hope’s own eyes and Annabelle’s.

“N-Not much,” She stutters, “Uh— I wanted to just make sure you got my notes last night.”

Hope nodes quickly, “Totally.”

Amy’s mouth forms a nervous smile and gives a short nod, “O-Okay, well… That’s all I really wanted to know.”

“Sounds good,” Annabelle confirms lightly, and Hope gives hum.

“I’ll see you in Physics then.”

Amy gives a nervous laugh and mimics a peace sign as she simultaneously trips over her own two feet, almost falling backward into a stationary object while she quickly disappears from the conversation.

“Cya then nerd!” Hope hollers, slightly unsure and nervously over the commotion of the outdoor eating area before turning back to Annabelle.

“She’s really weird, isn’t she?”

Hope shrugs, “It’s Amy. She just means well, she’s one of the good ones here.”

“Good ones?” Annabelle frowns, “What am I?”

“Another good one?” Hope specifies, “She’s just being nice, give her a break.”

The girl folds her arms and she huffs, “I don’t know— Amy and Molly just rub me the wrong way dude, they just seem weird to me. Are you seriously considering that Davidson and Antsler aren’t weird?”

“Me?” Hope practically scoffs, “No! They’re totally weird, don’t even get me wrong—"

“But Amy?”

Hope’s expression contorts to a concentration expression as she continues to fiddle with her lunch, “I don’t know man, Amy doesn’t seem as bad. Don’t give her that bad rep. She isn’t a monster like Molly.”

“Right. Okay,” Annabelle pauses, taking a deep breath and continuing to look around the cafeteria, before looking back to Hope, “You going to class next hour?”

“Probably not,” Hope denies, “Why?”

“Wanna go get high or something?”

“Fuck, I’m down,” Hope confirms, “I could use that shit right now.”

“Are you going to be okay if we do? I thought your dad was—”

Hope cuts her off, “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just have fun as friends man, it’s not like it isn’t consensual drug use.”

“That’s a thing?” Annabelle questions, Hope shrugs.

“It should be if it isn’t.”

“That makes sense,” She nods, “Yeah.”

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> planning something halloween themed for these two as a celebration for halloween... you'll see!!! :)
> 
> (just depending on my school work and how motivated I feel, I'm working on so much right now so...)
> 
> cheers m8s!

**Author's Note:**

> _aye, let me know what you think of this._


End file.
